


Never Give You Up

by Karartegirl99



Category: Never Let Me Go - Kazuo Ishiguro
Genre: Angst, Dystopia, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Mistaken Identity, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22658767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karartegirl99/pseuds/Karartegirl99
Summary: Rabia doesn't know that Gavin is going to be a donor. Gavin doesn't know that Rabia isn't.
Kudos: 3





	Never Give You Up

By the time Gavin D. came of age, he’d lost touch with his childhood friends. Just four other students from his class were sent to Poplar Farm, and he didn’t know any of them very well. The only one he would have called a friend was Sydney. Sydney had left Poplar Farm last winter, having started carer training as soon as she could get away with it. “Let’s get this over with,” she’d said.

Gavin was in no hurry to get anything over with. Sometimes he thought it’d be easier if he was. It was almost painful watching his old schoolmates move out one by one, like they were taking part of his childhood with them when they left. At any rate, his eighteenth birthday came around and he was the only one who celebrated it.

He supposed he could have made new friends at the Farm, but the morbid little voice in the back of his head said that at eighteen, it was a bit late for friend-making. So he spent the days with his nose in a book. He read about futuristic cities with time-travel technology, or ancient forests full of fantastical creatures, or adventure on the open ocean. He read about stellar nurseries and pigeon breeding and Vodou and political theory. He read just about any book he could find that didn’t remind him of the Donations.

He knew that all this reading was a form of escapism. He read about escapism, too.

That particular Sunday found him reading Chaucer by the riverside. It was as far as he could go from the Farm without having to sign the logbook to leave, so of course he made a point to read there whenever possible. A muffled ray of sunlight filtered through a thin spot in the cloud cover, glittering pleasantly on the water. Gavin, confident in his solitude, hummed as he turned a page.

“Ooh, is that Canterbury Tales?”

Gavin looked up to see who’d spoken. Someone he’d never seen before stood at the opposite bank, poking at the clumpy sand with a large stick. She blushed slightly when he caught her eye. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help but notice what you were reading. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s alright,” said Gavin, and he was surprised to find that he meant it. “What are you doing here?” This was a good question, as there was nothing but farmland for miles in any direction.

“I’m visiting a friend, but she had to go on an errand, so… Just wandering, I guess.” She continued stabbing her stick into the ground. “I guess you live here, huh?”

“Yeah. What about you? Where’re you from?”

“Wales.”

Gavin nodded. Several of his dorm-mates from school had been sent there. He’d been jealous of them at first, until he’d heard that “The White Mansion” was just a normal farmhouse with pale-grey siding.

“I’m Rabia, by the way.” She started to hold out her hand, then remembered there was a not unlarge river between them.

“I’m Gavin.”

Rabia was looking side-to-side for a good place to ford. “Nice to meet you,” she said, as she stepped onto a partially-submerged stone. “I’ll be able to shake your hand in a moment, provided I don’t drown first.”

Gavin found himself smiling. “Please don’t drown.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” said Rabia as she, finally, made it safe to the other side. She set down the stick she was still holding and held out her hand once more. Gavin took it.

“So,” said Gavin. “You’ve read Canterbury Tales?”

-

For someone who came to Dorset to visit a friend, Rabia sure spent an awful lot of time with Gavin. It was stupid, maybe, but it felt right somehow. With her other friends, Rabia always felt like she was putting on a performance, playing the role of a human person instead of actually being one. Gavin was the first person she’d met in a long time that made her feel like she could stop thinking and just exist for a while. She hadn’t realized she’d forgotten that socializing could be _fun._

She’d only be in town a week, but she was already mentally rescheduling to leave as much time open for Gavin as possible. That sounded weird, was that weird? Maybe it was a little weird. But she enjoyed talking to Gavin so much that the sun had started to set before she even thought to leave. So she suggested they meet again the next day. “I don’t know what your plans are for tomorrow,” she admitted, “but I saw a cute little café on the drive in and I thought, well, if you’re in the area we can meet for lunch, if you like?”

“Sounds great!”

So Monday afternoon found them seated around a small metal table, talking about their favorite books and daring each other to order the weirdest things on the menu. There were all sorts of little things about Gavin that caught Rabia’s attention, like how adorably shy he was when the waiter came to take their order, and the endearing way he mispronounced every tenth word that came out of his mouth. God, this was an embarrassing crush. She’d known him less than a day and she was already swooning over the way he fidgeted with his napkin.

“So, what are you thinking of studying?” she asked. People say they hate when they’re asked this question, but it was a safe way for Rabia to start a new conversation.

At least, it was usually safe. This time, it just made Gavin look confused. “Anything, I guess. I read whatever I get my hands on.”

“I feel ya,” said Rabia. “But also, like, won’t you be starting classes soon?”

Gavin’s face fell. “Oh. I guess so.”

Rabia knew a sensitive subject when she found one, so she backtracked. “Read anything cool lately?”

“Well, there was this one memoir…”

Things went smoothly after that, and Rabia was careful not to bring up school again. She figured Gavin probably had trouble getting into university and was embarrassed talking about it. He probably heard enough on the subject from his family as it was. Honestly, Rabia could do with a distraction from the upcoming fall semester, herself. So they talked about everything from ethics to action films until, after two hours, their waiter gently hinted that they should clear the table for someone else.

The two stood on the corner outside of the café, unsure what to do next. Rabia was reluctant to leave. It would be at least a year, she knew, before she came down to Dorset again, and who knows if Gavin would still be here when she did. And she liked Gavin a lot, but not enough to try to make long-distance work. She wracked her brain for an excuse to stay, but thankfully, Gavin seemed to be on the same page as her. “Have you ever been to the beach?” he asked.

“Not in a long time,” she admitted.

“You wanna check it out together?”

“Alright, but I didn’t bring a swimming costume with me.”

“Fine by me—I can’t swim.”

It turned out Gavin hadn’t ever been to the beach, and had only a passing idea of which way the ocean was. So Rabia navigated from the passenger seat, deciphering a road map she’d taken from a display in a petrol station, until they pulled into a coastal town as the sun was setting. It was one of those places that thrived on tourism, and even in the fading light, the pavement by the beach was filled with vacation-goers. “Park over there,” Rabia said, pointing to a lot near the dunes. Gavin did accordingly, and they stepped out of the car and into the ocean air.

“Oh, we don’t have anything to make a sandcastle with,” Gavin realized.

Rabia couldn’t help but snort at how disappointed he looked. “I think we’ll live.”

“We don’t have towels or beach chairs, either. We don’t have anything that people are supposed to bring to beaches.”

“Maybe the shops’ll be selling something,” Rabia suggested.

Gavin grinned. “Ok, if we find enough sand dollars and pirate doubloons on the beach, we’ll head to the shops and buy everything.”

“Everything. The entire shops.”

“We’ll buy the real estate, too, while we’re at it. Tourism is a profitable industry.”

“You bet your ass it is.”

Their shoes and socks were caked with sand before they’d gone five steps from the carpark, so in the end they left them by a fencepost and continued on with bare feet. The sky was turning a spun-sugar color, an impossible reddish-purplish-pink that knew that magenta wasn’t a real color and wanted to make sure that you knew it, too. The setting sun seemed to light the waves on fire. “Wow,” Gavin breathed.

“Wow,” Rabia agreed.

They walked down to the water, and for a while they just stood on the smooth stretch of sand there, letting their toes sink in as waves nipped at their ankles. Every now and again a child would run past, or a gull would waddle by. Rabia and Gavin took in their surroundings as they talked about everything and nothing at all.

Dusk fell like a cloth over a birdcage, and many of the tourists around them started to leave. Gavin watched as a nearby family packed up their beach umbrella, the children pleading to stay longer. “I wonder what it’s like,” he said at last.

“What?”

“Going on holiday with family like that.”

Rabia thought of her own parents, who had always been rather clingy and had only gotten worse when she left for university. “It’s overrated.”

“It’s weird, though, right? Everyone else here, this is just a two-week vacation destination to them. We’re the only ones here who aren’t here on holiday. I feel like someone’s going to notice and ask us to leave.”

Rabia considered this as she clawed at the sand with her toes. Her mind was wandering, and somehow the thing she landed on and decided to say out loud was, “The world belongs to everyone, I guess.”

Gavin shook his head. “Not to people like us, it doesn’t.”

“ _Everyone,_ ” she said again. And when Gavin didn’t say anything in response, she reached out and held his hand.

It was late enough that the moon was bathing the beach in a soft, grey light, making it look like an alien landscape. The ocean breeze had become uncomfortably chilly, and Rabia felt Gavin shiver beside her. On an impulse, she pulled him closer. “We should get going soon,” she said.

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a drive, isn’t it. Are you, uh, staying at Poplar, or..? You’re not going back to Wales _tonight_ , are you?”

“Oh no, I’m staying at a B&B until I leave on Friday.”

“I guess I should drop you off there, then.”

“Mm-hmm.” Rabia gripped his hand a little tighter. “I mean, you don’t have to.”

“It’s barely out of my way, no trouble at all.”

“No, I mean—” She took a breath. “You don’t have to drop me off. If you don’t want to.”

“Oh.”

And, without letting go of his hand, Rabia led the way back to the car.

-

Gavin was in such a tizzy by the time they got back to Poplar Farm that he almost forgot to sign himself in. The two of them sneaked past the kitchen, where they heard the sounds of late-night chatter from his housemates, and up the back stairs to Gavin’s room. He wasn’t sure why he was sneaking, except he was pretty sure Rabia might get in trouble if anyone knew she was out this late. It could’ve been that sneaking was just more fun, especially poorly-done sneaking like they were doing, stifling giggles and stepping on each other’s toes by accident. Any pretense of stealth was gone by the time they reached the bedroom proper, because if you can’t let loose in the bedroom, well, then, where can you?

After that, they spent the rest of the night wrapped up in blankets and whispering back and forth. It reminded Gavin of the slumber parties characters went to in the books he’d read. It also reminded him of the dorms at Hailsham, but he pushed that thought aside. He wasn’t going to think about deferrals tonight, or the life the two of them might share under better circumstances. For now, he just let himself become lost in the heady joy of sharing a bed with her.

Sometime later, he was roused from sleep by the sound of a book clapping shut. He was still too tired to open his eyes, but he listened to Rabia’s soft breathing as she set the book down, opened another one, and turned a page. “My books?” Gavin mumbled sleepily.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’m an early riser.” A hand ruffled Gavin’s hair. “Go back to sleep, sweety.”

“Mmm, no.” Gavin forced his eyes to creak open, and now he could see her, out-of-focus, on the bed beside him. There was a pile of books on the nightstand. “I knew it. This was all a plot to gain access to my library.”

“Yep,” said Rabia, popping the “p”. “All along. Can’t believe you fell for it.”

He chuckled and managed to sit up slightly. “What’cha reading now, then?”

Rabia paused, squinted at the title. “Something about counter-culture fashions through the ages?”

“Ooh, that’s a good one.”

“How about we grab some breakfast and you tell me all about it?”

It was another hour, though, before both of them had pulled themselves out of bed, dressed, and slunk downstairs. The kitchen was empty except for Lucas, who had arrived at the Farm two months ago. He sat skimming the paper as he listened to the drone of the television from the other room. “G’morning, Gavin,” he said. “And mysterious lady-friend.”

“Mornin’, Lucas.”

“Does the groundskeeper know you let someone stay the night, or is this all very hush-hush?”

Gavin, who’d been trying not to think about whether Rabia’s presence was against the rules, told him to shut up and went to make some tea.

Lucas hummed thoughtfully and turned to Rabia. “So, did you and Gavin know each other at Hailsham?”

“We met the other day, actually,” she told him.

Lucas frowned. “How?”

“I ran into him while I was on a walk.”

“So you’re local?”

Gavin, having finished setting up the kettle, returned to the table. “She’s visiting from Wales,” he explained. He grabbed two apples from the fruit bowl and passed one to Rabia.

Lucas seemed to brighten at this. “Oh, isn’t that where The White Mansion is? Do you know a girl called Kelsey? Tell her I said ‘hi’.”

“I’m not sure where White Mansion is, I’m afraid.”

Gavin had been about to bite into his apple, but this made him pause. “What?”

“I’ve never heard of White Mansion,” Rabia said. “Wales is a big place, you know.”

Gavin gave her a quizzical look. “I thought you said you were from there.”

“No?” She was starting to look a bit confused, herself. “I’m from Newport.”

A strange anxiety was growing in Gavin’s stomach. He’d never heard of any Donor Program establishments in Newport. Maybe, he tried to tell himself, it was new, and he just hadn’t heard about it yet. “Sorry,” he found himself saying. “I must’ve misunderstood, when you said you were from Wales.”

“The Cottages aren’t in Newport, are they?” Lucas asked Gavin.

“I don’t think so, no,” said Gavin.

“There might be some cottages outside city limits,” Rabia offered weakly. “I’m still not sure what you guys are talking about.”

Lucas sat his paper down rather suddenly and said, “Gavin, did you have sex with a girl from the _outside?_ And not _realize_ it?”

Gavin could feel his cheeks turn two shades darker. He stared at the grain of the table and wished he could fast-forward to tonight when this will hopefully all have blown over. “Sorry, Rabia. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Rabia sounded almost as panicked as he felt. “Assumed what?”

Oh shit.

_Oh, shit_.

_She didn’t know._

Lucas, who had the privilege of having nothing at stake in this conversation, took the opportunity to get the hell out of there before things got messy. Gavin took a bite out of his apple to postpone answering. The kettle went off.

“I’ll just—” Rabia stood and took the kettle off the burner. She considered steeping the tea leaves, but decided against it and just sat back down again. “Whenever you’re ready,” she told him.

Gavin steeled himself as he looked into her eyes. “Rabia, did..? Did you not know I’m in the Donor Program?”

Rabia breathed, taking in this new information. “No, I didn’t.”

“Well, there you have it.”

She worried her lip. “And you thought I was a donor, too.”

Gavin nodded.

Rabia didn’t run screaming out of the house never to return, so Gavin considered this a win so far. Still, there was something guarded in her face that hadn’t been there last night. When she spoke to him again, she was looking about a centimeter to the left of where his eyes were. “I’m sorry if I misled you.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He really was. If she had been hoping to find a life partner in him, she must be sorely disappointed now.

She forced a smile. “I’m glad I got to meet you, at least.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me, too.”

Gavin realized it might have been better if she’d run away screaming. The way she was looking at him now, a blend of awkwardness and pity, made him feel like he wasn’t a person to her anymore. It was like she thought he was already dead.

He didn’t know how to tell her all this, and more importantly, he didn’t want to. There’s no good way to tell someone they’re being patronizing, or whatever word described the way she’d distanced herself from him. The best thing to do would be not to even try. “Let me drive you home.”

Rabia got to her feet. “It’s okay, I can just walk. Thanks for breakfast.” She looked at the apple he’d given her, which she’d still not eaten, and after a moment’s thought she put it into her pocket.

Gavin stood up, too. This was the part where he was supposed to ask for her phone number or address. He didn’t think it would do him any good. Instead, he just hugged her goodbye. It was a far cry from what they’d shared last night, but it would have to do. He was the first to pull away, and then Rabia nodded and headed out.

-

Five years later, and Rabia still wonders if it could have worked out between them. It’s not a thought she entertains often, mostly because she doesn’t think she wants to know the answer. She doesn’t even know if a relationship with Gavin is what she wanted in the first place. All she knows is that it would have been painful to spend even another night with him, and she doesn’t want to dwell on whether that pain would have been worth it.

Nowadays, she tells herself it would have been cruel to try. She would never be able to understand what he was going through, and he deserved to be with someone who could. She wouldn’t be able to handle being with someone who had an expiration date, wouldn’t be able to justify taking up so much of what little time he had. And, if she was being honest, she wouldn’t be strong enough to watch him die. Not because she’d love him too much, but because she wouldn’t love him enough. She doesn’t think she could ever love anyone enough to watch them die like that.

So here she is, at her desk, trying not to think about it. She is resolutely not thinking about it, even though the non-profit she works for is trying to end the Donor Program and she is thus always surrounded by reminders of Gavin’s existence. She doesn’t think about it, even as she types up an editorial about the living conditions at Poplar Farm. She sits at her desk and she does her work and she Does. Not. Think about it.

But then Gavin walks through the door, and suddenly she can’t think about anything else.

The years have changed him, of course. He must’ve gone through a donation already because he’s wearing a recovery centre uniform, and there’s a carer by his side helping to support his weight. A receptionist comes up to speak to him, and Rabia can’t make out the words but she’s seen enough donors come in here to know he was being offered something to drink. Then he would sit and wait for a while before someone would come by, tell him about the organization, ask for a written statement about his experience as a donor, that sort of thing. Rabia had seen the song and dance play out several times, but never with someone she knew before. As soon as Gavin is seated in the waiting area Rabia gets up and walks over to him.

“Hello,” she says, and this was as far ahead as she’d planned.

“Oh, hi,” says Gavin. “Rabia, right?”

Rabia notes, distantly, that she feels relieved. “You recognize me.”

“Well, you recognized me first, didn’t you?”

“That I did.” She shuffles in place, unsure if she should take a seat next to him. Maybe she should just go back to her desk, pen up that memo to the Carer’s Union she’s been putting off, but she can’t bring her feet to move. “So, how are things?” she asks, and then immediately has to refrain from slapping herself in the face. You don’t ask someone with only one lung “how are things”.

Gavin doesn’t seem to mind, though. “Pretty good, thanks. Apparently I passed my first donation with flying colors, whatever the hell _that_ means.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Rabia. “T-Though, I’d be gladder to hear that you weren’t donating at all.”

“Well, it’s a bit late to flee the country now.”

“Right.” Rabia had never known what to do when faced with a donor’s gallows humor, so she does what she does best and moves on. “There’s gonna be a hearing in parliament, soon.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Neither of them are quite sure what to say next. Gavin’s carer, a scrawny woman with ginger hair, is pretending to be absorbed in the stack of magazines on the waiting room table.

Eventually, an intern appears. “Gavin D.? Hi, I’m ready to talk to you now.”

The carer helps Gavin to stand, and she and the intern start to lead him away. But just before they turn the corner, Gavin stops and looks back. “Hey, Rabia? I never did make you that cup of tea. You wanna meet up after this and I’ll make it up to you?”

Rabia’s eyes water, even as she nods. “My shift ends at seven.”

“See you then,” Gavin says, and he’s gone.

Rabia heads back to her desk. She finishes her editorial and gets started on the memo, and for the first time in five years, she lets herself look forward to what the future holds.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over the course of a day for my English final, because there was no way I was going to turn down an opportunity to explore this setting AND to get a grade for it. As a result, it's not super polished, but it was still super fun to write and I hope just as interesting to read!


End file.
